2012-09-25 Room 26
It isn't easy making the call, but so many things in Domino's life tend to run this side of difficult. She's not one to ask for help, not one to call or rely upon others, but sometimes there just isn't anything else she can do. She picked up a room at an awful little hotel in Gotham, practically could have paid for one night's rent with gum and matchsticks, then she sat back and waited for his arrival. Well, waited for his arrival while cleaning her pistols. The trench is folded over the back of a rickety chair, the dresser now home to a healthy collection of items ranging from medical to ballistic in nature. It's just another evening for mercenary maintenance all around. It's a short ride from Remy's safehouse to the motel. His motorcycle is insanely fast, even with a sidecar attached. So a handful of minutes after getting the call from Domino, he's pulling into a parking space and cutting the engine. He has a reusable canvas grocery bag dangling from one hand that's filled to the brim with all manner of medical supplies. Bandages, suture kits, disinfectants, ointments, and much more peep out of the top as he lets himself into the building and trots up the stairs to the second floor. "Oh, dis a nice place," he mumbles to himself sarcastically as he knocks on the door to Dom's room. "It's open," comes a barely muffled voice from the other side. Soundproofing's a luxury this place doesn't seem to have, either. Behind that door Dom almost lazily reaches over for the one sidearm still left loaded and ready, setting it beside her but keeping hold of the grip. While she is expecting company, she doesn't know that the intended visitor has arrived yet. "This should prove to be interesting," she mutters upon a distant sigh. 'Hey, hi, we barely know one another beyond what we've picked up from the bounty files and grapevines and tried to kill each other on first sight. Would you come patch me up?' The door swings open and Remy pokes his tousled head inside. When it doesn't get shot off, the rest of him quickly follows. "Bonjour, mimi," he greets her. He gives his bag a jiggle, then sets it down on the dresser. His coat is tossed across the bed and his sleeves are pushed back to the elbow. "Show me where it hurts." From the look of him, she's not the only one who's been in a recent scuffle. There's a faint bruise at the corner of Remy's jaw and the telltale bulge of a bandage under his shirt makes one shoulder look a little larger than it should. Despite the tension Domino's already feeling there's a light smile to her expression upon seeing your head coming through that door and not someone else's. Anything that can emit light within the room is already on as high as it will go, leaving one shiny black blotch of woman in an otherwise grungy colored environment. Before she can answer your question she gives you a more amused look, tapping the area on her own jaw right where your bruise happens to be. "That one's not mine. Don't tell me there's another girl in your life, Remy, I don't think I could handle that kind of competition." The intact weapon gets set aside on the dresser, joining its disassembled mate. "Left shoulder, back. You'll know it when you see it." It's already day two after having gotten hit, without getting proper treatment. "You know you de only one for me, chere," Remy ripostes. He reaches up to touch his own shoulder. "Got dat and dis de other night. Long story. Maybe I have you take a look before I leave. Now take off your top, let me see what I'm workin' with." Normally he'd try to be charming, or he'd be smiling, or somehow manage to turn the request into something deeper and more perverse than it truly is. He's already moving to stand behind Domino, though, so any view he might have will be limited. Could be that he's actually trying to be helpful. "You just make friends wherever you go, doncha?" she teases while scooting around to try and provide the best working angle. Being helpful is not something that Dom's going to question, especially knowing where this one's going. With practiced motions, both while healthy and while injured, she peels herself out of that armored coating from the waist up, revealing a sea of albino white flesh that's home to an entire roadmap of previous encounters. "Took a piece of aircraft aluminum so there might still be a prize inside. Hopefully it doesn't smell like fuel." Someone gets herself into some interesting situations. Bar fights are too common, anyway. "Good thing you had the evening free." In other words, thank you for coming on such short notice. Remy finger-walks his way along a few of the more interesting scars on his way to Domino's newest injury. He seems fascinated by the expanse of pale flesh, even though nothing risque is visible. When he realizes he's running his thumb up a long scar in a fairly familiar fashion, he coughs, clears his throat, and gives his head a minute shake. "I don't see anything sticking out. Want I should check inside just to be safe?" Even as he makes the offer, he winces. Exploratory surgery by an amateur medic in a cheap hotel room. "I have painkillers. And booze." For a moment Dom seems content to sit there and breathe, perhaps steadying her nerves for what's about to happen. It doesn't dawn upon her until a while in that you're more focused on her previous marks rather than the newest addition to the family. Rather than give you a hard time about it she grins to herself and remarks "I like to keep things exciting." Back to the matter at hand she grimaces slightly, it's hard to be a fan of this activity. "Probably worthwhile to take a quick look, I wasn't entirely careful when pulling the majority of it out." Sure there's ways to numb the pain, but who has time for that? She sets her jaw and mutters "Just do it." Remember what happens when you leave wounds untreated, Domino. Suck it up and remember what it feels like. Scalpel. Tweezers. Rubbing alcohol. Antiseptic wipes. Like a chef laying out mise en place, he situates everything he'll need just so before he begins. Then he shoves his grocery bag toward Domino. Among other things, there's a bottle of vodka and a blister pack of Percocet inside. "In case you change your mind," he says. A few seconds of studying the wound as he dons a pair of latex gloves, then he nods in a businesslike fashion. "Let's do de damn thing." And he does. The scalpel comes first, reopening the wound so he can get a good look at it. Unfortunately, blood keeps getting in the way. "Nurse. Suction. Nurse?" he quips as he dabs it away. "Yeah, I think I see something shiny in dere." It's a lot like getting shot or stabbed, oddly enough. Domino knows what it feels like. She knows how it's going to feel every step of the way, plus during the recovery time. Knowing this still doesn't help prepare a body or a mind of such physical trauma, knowing more than enough to know that it's going to hurt like hell. Knowing -that,- she's not going to do anything more but sit there and wait. Slow, deep breaths. It's like interrogation, but with someone decent holding the blade and not some guy she's going to wreck with a hammer later. While you're focusing on your work her change of expression wouldn't be so well noticed, but the rest of her body language tells it all. Head bowing forward, spine curving, fingers getting a death grip on the edge of the mattress... It's the look of someone wanting to cry out but not permitting herself to. "Nurse is on leave," she quickly pushes out through a clenched jaw. "You're stuck with m-me." "Don't say 'stuck' right now," Remy replies, smiling crookedly. He uses his finger and thumb to spread the wound, but he places them across blood vessels and applies a painful amount of pressure. It isn't pleasant, but it's necessary. "Okay," he mutters as he picks up the tweezers. "Now it's time for de really fun part." Prospecting time. While he tries to be gentle, he's focused more on getting the job done fast. The tips of the tweezers graze against the metal shard, then snag on it a couple of times before he can get a proper grip. "Got it. On three. Ready? One... Two..." and then he pulls it out. Quickly, smoothly, and prematurely. "Three!" he finishes. Whup, there it is! Dom only has a "Hnngh..." to offer in response as you start digging to the root of the problem. With the lack of yelling involved you can easily hear the sound of her nails raking across the fabric of the covers, her breath held until the pressure from your fingers stabilizes before she can force a fresh breath back into her lungs. Fun, indeed! When the poking and prodding begins, so do the beginnings of tears. 'All you have to do is keep yourself composed a little bit longer. Get a grip on yourself, damnit!' The piece of debris is caught and the countdown begins. That's her cue to try and ease the tension out of her back and shoulders, a task not easily done but learned through repetition and requirement. For three seconds, she can ease back on her-- "-Gauh!-" One black and white head jumps upright, spiked black hair sticking a bit closer to her scalp from a light sweat. In that instant she's back to being tense, though now she's also staring with wide, tear-dampened eyes back at the door. "You learned that..from one of my..old work buddies..!" The bloodied metal splinter is set on the edge of the towel. A second towel is folded into a compress and held against the wound to staunch the blood flow. Remy's chuckling as he presses down on Dom's shoulder. He can't help it. "It worked, didn't it? Relax. You did great. Dat was a big one." He raises his other hand and lays it against Domino's back reassuringly. Even through his glove, he can feel the crisscrossing of scars along her body. "Not like dis your first show, right?" he asks, keeping his voice light and playful. Breathing time, Domino. Breeeeathe... Okay. "It always works," she confirms with a bit of irritation, not really wanting to admit to it. "You got it, right..? If it slipped I don't want to do that again." With the supporting hand coming into play she lets out a heavy breath, shuddering slightly as her head droops forward again. "Far from it. Usually I catch it earlier, with a solid half hour of drinking beforehand. Seems like you've had some practice, too. You did..good back there." Though -now- seems like a good time to find those pills, no sense in punishing herself for the entire evening. "Yeah, I got it. And yeah, I done dis before," Remy admits. He chuckles quietly and shakes his head. "Too many times. You did good, too. I'd know. I had a piece of fence post about dat size pulled outta my side a few weeks back." He lifts the towel briefly, peeks under it, frowns, and reapplies pressure. "I might have to stitch you," he warns. "Unless you want to spend all night with nothing between you and me but dis lil' towel." Stitches. That's enough to bring a low groan from the back of her throat. "I'll defer to that prior experience of yours. You seem to know what you're doing." That right there is reason enough for Domino to believe that smoothing things over between the two had been a wise move. Somewhere else to stay, -and- on-call medical support? "Sorry I cut up your chest," she suddenly adds out of the blue." Alright. She doesn't want to move but she makes herself move, snagging both the pills and the vodka and swiftly applying the both of them. If it comes down to a needle and thread then she's definitely going to want her cloud nine time. "So why'd the fence attack you?" she teases in a serious sounding tone. "Got thrown off a building and landed on it," the Cajun admits, as if things like that happen every day. Which, to be fair, they probably do. He pulls his hand away from the small of Domino's back and preps a tube of ointment. The towel is lifted up just long enough for him to squeeze out a dollop onto the wound, then he presses down again. "Dat should help. Here, gimme dat." Grinning, he reaches his arm around Dom to snag the bottle of vodka from her. He takes several healthy gulps before passing it back. "Dat should help, too. So. How'd you end up getting skewered?" Humor's still the best medicine. The casualness of your reply has Domino laughing in short order. "Sorry I missed the fun. You seem to find yourself in a lot of trouble for being a thief, or does it find you naturally?" The familiar looking necklace up at her neck might support her own question, either she's taken a fancy to it or she keeps forgetting to remove it. The bottle gets passed back to you. "Last job..two days ago, now. Local, some protestors had serious issues dealing with a bunch of kids just for being different. Chopper was coming in for an evac and got slapped out of the sky, left a mess all over. You should have seen the piece that I managed to avoid," she says with a chuckle. "Whole thing was a giant mess. Think I dropped the guy behind it though, left him with a broken hand and a bullet to the leg. Feds are keeping him company, no doubt." "All in a day's work, right?" Remy responds, smiling his familiar, crooked smile. The ointment seems to have done the trick, because the next time he peeks under the towel he seems much more satisfied with what he sees. Enough that he gives the wound a final wipedown and then sets his blotter aside. "Normally I never trouble trouble unless trouble troubles me. Or unless it's profitable. Or interesting." He takes another swig and nestles the bottle between his front and Dom's back. Two fingers toy with the choker, tugging at it gently. "Or beautiful." "Yeah, exactly," Domino agrees without hesitation. "There's always something, though it doesn't always pay. Or--yeah," she seconds then pauses, slowly turning her head to try and catch a glimpse of you over her shoulder. "Seems we're not all that different." Then something's tugging at her neck. Oh, how quickly we forget! She rolls her eyes in silence, though there's a faint look of amusement (of being flattered, maybe?) in there, as well. "Yeah, you're a real charmer. Don't have to use the eyes on me, anymore." Silence passes over Domino for a short while before she gathers her thoughts back together. "Speaking of profitable or interesting. Have you ..ever taken a job that seemed so risky as to be suicidal, for something maybe you weren't certain was worth it and with an end result which couldn't be predicted..?" She might just be trying to change the subject, take the focus away from herself. "Yeah, but not by choice." Remy's hand lingers at Domino's collarbone for an instant longer, then he gets back to patching her up. "I mean, I know we always have a choice and all dat. But my choice was take de job or have my powers blow me up from de inside out. Not much of a choice." As he speaks, he gives the wound another wipe with an alcohol swab, spackles on a fresh layer of ointment, and then slaps a large adhesive bandage over the whole mess. "Dat ought to hold you, at least for now." "That isn't much of a choice," Dom counters. "I meant if it was solely your choice, between what seemed like a good idea at the time with unforseen consequences and leaving things be to run their natural course. Blind leap of faith and all." She's back to cringing as you touch up the injury on another pass, though with the worst of the ordeal gone through it should all be downhill from here. "Thank you, Remy. I mean it. This one could have turned out bad." The Cajun shrugs his broad shoulders. "Glad I could help," he replies honestly. "Don't wait so long next time. Dat thing could've gotten infected, me." He gives Domino's uninjured shoulder a friendly cuff, stands, and turns his back politely. While he's turned away, he tidies up the mess and piles everything back into his shopping bag. "Go ahead, get yourself dressed. Den we go get you something to eat. You need fuel if you're gon' heal up right." Dom's expression hardens slightly, "Didn't feel right troubling you with my problems." Yeah, she can still be stubborn. With this bit of unpleasantness brought to a conclusion she pours her arms back into the sleeves and pulls herself back together, still with that extra bit of care involved. "You've already done quite a lot for me, kiddo. You don't have to go through this much trouble on my behalf." Is that a small bit of embarrassment in her voice? "Despite evidence suggesting otherwise, I can take care of myself." She's not trying all that hard to get you to back down, though. Lack of energy, or maybe she really doesn't want to push you away all over again. "Just because you can do a thing alone, dat doesn't always mean you should," Remy says quietly. A frown draws lines across his forehead and around the corners of his mouth. "Took me a long time to learn dat. Besides, I like taking care of you." He shrugs again and drapes his coat around his shoulders. His frown has turned back to a smile. "Is it really dat strange? Having a guy do nice things for you 'cuz he likes you? You act like it never happen to you before." Your comment is enough to make her stop and think, too. "Alright, I'll give you that." The bit about liking what you're doing she's not sure how to respond to! It's likely going to happen again, fairly frequently if she can get this sort of help without any pushing or persuading, but is that the sort of thing Domino wants to admit to? No, not really. "It usually doesn't," she replies in a lower tone while gathering her things together. The physical distraction is a blessing in disguise, motor memory taking over in what becomes its own twisted brand of therapy. The one gun goes back together, the combat webbing goes back around her torso, loaded, geared up, and trench soon falling back into hand. It's clear that there's more on her mind now, her movements brisk and efficient. Still, she does say one more thing about it. "Only happened once before." Remy immediately holds out both hands, his palms facing Domino. It's the universally recognized sign for 'I don't need to know.' "Only once explain a few things. I get it. Trust me, though... Life's a lot better if you let people in." A range of expressions flash across his face. Thoughts and memories. Names. Bella Donna. Julian. Essex. Esme, Phoebe, and Sophie. Laura. He takes a deep breath, holds it for a moment, then lets it out slowly. "It's risky, but it's worth it. Least I think so." Category:Logs Category:RPLogs